Here’s a thought:
Imagine a world where music like Nicki Minaj, Nickelback, and Katy Perry are the underground indie artists that only the truly hip know about and things like Neutral Milk Hotel, CocoRosie, and Throbbing Gristle blare from pop-culture radio stations 24 hours a day.
Imagine a raging college frat party full of bros and bro-hoes trashed out of their skulls when Neutral Milk Hotel comes up on shuffle.
“Oh shit! Mothafuggin’ NMH! This shit’s my jam, bro!”
And they proceed to take shots while fist pumping the air after singing, “I love you Jesus Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiist.”
Meanwhile, in a 12x12 storage bin that was renovated into a music venue in downtown Portland Oregon, Nicki Minaj is doing her thing while scrawny art students in thrift clothes and thick-rimmed glasses take polaroid photos of the event while awkwardly and apathetically swaying to the beat.
In all reality, I like things the way they are. This would be a terrible, terrible existence.
